


Empfindung

by Silver_Shortage_in_Markarth



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:54:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22010632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_Shortage_in_Markarth/pseuds/Silver_Shortage_in_Markarth
Summary: If you were to ask him who his favorite composer was, you might expect him to say Mozart, or Beethoven.You would be wrong.
Kudos: 10





	Empfindung

_Austria, March 26, 1828_

* * *

The concert hall lobby was quite empty as of right now. He expected it to be; the main event wouldn't be for a few more hours or so. 

Austria had his mind a bit in the clouds right now. Or rather, he had it set more likely on what the composer tonight had in store. It seemed odd that he didn't actually have a concert for his immense creations until now. Perhaps that had just been his own preference, though. 

Then again, the man was often quite busy writing his works; sometimes Austria was amazed that he found any time for his friends, let alone setting up a full-blown concert. 

Upon reaching the auditorium, Austria quietly slipped and tiptoed his way to the front of the seating. There the man was going over some songs with a few of the players, the violinist, pianist, and main singer in particular. When he got close enough, Austria put a finger to his lips towards the players. He didn't want to disclose his presence right away. 

It was when he took a seat in the very front, that he revealed himself. 

"It would seem that your nerves are getting the better of you, Little Mushroom," he said finally while the composer was quiet. This caused the man to startle a bit, quickly spinning around to see who it was that snuck in. To try and calm him, Austria grinned and waved him off. 

"Now now, Franz, there's little need to be alarmed by my presence. I merely desire to supervise you and wish you well in your musical endeavors. 

"And what kind of nation would I be," Austria went on, "if I didn't attend the very first concert of one of my favorite composers?" 

He waited until the composer nodded, then stated one last thing: 

"By any chance could you perform my favorite of your songs? I would like that very much." Again, the man nodded.

Thus, Austria remained ever the loyal audience member; he watched with awe and pride as the concert was practiced and performed. He even made certain that his applause was as loud as he could manage to get it at the conclusion. Suffice it to say, it made the news eight months later even harder to accept. 

"Typhoid fever, you say?" Was what he asked of the messenger that had told him. "Are you certain that it was not syphilis that had taken him?" 

Although outwardly he was calm, inside Austria was falling apart. He waited until everyone else left, before retiring to his piano room. Then he raised his fingers above the ivory keys, as though in preparation for one of his usual songs. Unfortunately, he didn't so much as play a single note before collapsing upon all of the keys, creating a most unpleasant sound as he did so. 

That still wasn't quite as bad as what followed; the hysterical sobbing of Austria's immense grief. 

* * *

_Austria, Modern Day_

* * *

Snapping out of his reminiscing, Austria looked about to find that he was now back in his current home. Most of the decor was the same, if updated and restored a bit. 

Austria sat in the chair he'd been resting on, before shaking himself free of his daze and getting to his feet. 

"Almost two centuries have passed," Austria thought out loud, "and still I mourn your death, Franz. What more could you have created, had you lived just a little longer?

"Even so, I am grateful for the three decades that you lived. I cannot ever thank you enough for that."

Peeking out the doorway of his piano room, Austria looked about the hallway to see if anyone was coming. When he saw no one, he went back in and sat in front of his beloved instrument. There he pulled out a folder of his most favored works, and selected one in particular.

Though it had seen better days, he could still very much read the music and the name of the song:

_Ave Maria_

Once everything was in order, his fingers properly warmed up and such, it was then Austria began to play. As he did, he hoped maybe, just maybe, Franz was listening from the afterlife.


End file.
